Then Everything Changes
by Alexandri
Summary: Basically this is a prequel to "After All Is Said and Done." Alone in Adam's apartment for a week, Joan and Adam take steps toward taking their relationship to the next level. Complete!
1. The Conversation

A/N: I started this a while ago and just now finished this chapter. Tell me if it works. I hope so. The first chapter of my Grace/Luke fic should be up soon. I might wait until I finish the second chapter as well. The point is I'm working. Alexandri.

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"Jane?" Adam asked as his hand brushed across her arm.

"What?" she asked back, jumping from the contact.

He frowned at her, his expression a mixture of misgiving and astonishment.

Why shouldn't he look at her like that? He hadn't snuck up on her or anything. They were sitting on his couch watching television. It's not like he should expect her to spazz out whenever he touched her. Except for the fact that she'd been doing just that for the last three days.

"Are you okay?"

Good question. Joan was pretty sure the answer was no, but she nodded anyway. Things had been getting progressively worse since the semester started. It was all because of that damn Human Sexuality class she was taking for her major. Ever since that class started, her natural awareness of Adam had increased exponentially. She was super-sensitive to everything: his nearness, his touch, his smell. It was making her crazy. The merest thought of him was likely to spin off into some vivid fantasy of him carrying her up to his bedroom to make mad, passionate love. Five years of waiting had finally gotten to her.

Adam didn't appear to share her current affliction. If it weren't for the fact that she knew better—after all, Adam was still a guy—she'd think he wasn't interested at all. Once they'd discussed the issue of sex and she'd said she wanted to wait, he'd agreed and had gone out of his way to guarantee that they did. They had developed an elaborate set of rules to avoid "intimate situations" like never staying in the car or a bedroom together too long or being around each other in skimpy clothing. They'd learned that lesson over Spring Break their freshman year. A couple of enamored teenagers with wildly raging hormones should not spend a week looking at each other in bathing suits.

Now it was Spring Break again, junior edition, and they'd decided to stay in town instead of going someplace warm or home. And for the past three days, at Adam's insistence, Joan had stayed at his apartment. He didn't like the idea of her staying in her apartment by herself for a week. She'd told him she was a big girl and could look after herself to which he'd replied, "Bad things happen, even to big girls."

Joan bit back a heavy sigh. How was she supposed to get through the next five days without hurting his feelings or jumping him on the sofa?

"Did I do something?" Adam asked quietly. "Are you mad at me for some reason?"

Closing her eyes, Joan berated herself for making him feel like he'd done something wrong. "It's not you," she confessed. "It's me."

"A classic break-up line isn't reassuring, Jane."

She thought about how best to explain her dilemma, but found herself staring at the commercials flickering across the television. It was so much easier just to tune out the entire mess, let the ads seduce her into thinking about nail polish and cereal and cars she didn't care about. But that wasn't fair to Adam. He deserved an answer, no matter how embarrassing it was for her. With uneasy resolve, Joan turned off the TV and faced her boyfriend.

He wasn't looking at her. That helped. "It really isn't you, Adam. It's just I've been thinking lately that . . ." she stopped, unwilling to finish the sentence. Once she did, there was no taking it back. They'd have to deal with it and she wasn't totally sure they were ready for that.

"It isn't something bad, is it?"

"No." He looked up her then, clearly confused. She could almost hear what he was thinking: _then why are you acting like you can't bear to be around me_? Taking a deep breath, Joan decided that they'd just have to deal whether they were ready or not. "I think I'm ready."

She held her breath, unsure of what he'd say or even what she wanted him to say.

"Ready for what?" he asked, looking at her blankly.

Letting out her breath with a huff, she groped for a way to delicately broach the subject and be perfectly clear at the same time. "I think," she began, "that I'm ready to stop waiting."

"Stop waiting for . . ." he cut himself off with a gasp as understanding dawned. "Oh. Jane."

"I know." Now that his full attention was trained on her, she felt strangely conspicuous like she'd flashed him in public instead of telling him in private that she wanted more.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure that I've been thinking about it lately. A lot."

"But," Adam stammered, "we decided to wait."

"I know."

Adam seemed at a loss for words. His brow furrowed. His breath came in short, anxious puffs. He turned so that he sat facing her, his legs crossed, a mirror of her position. "I haven't done anything to make you feel pressured, have I?"

"No, you've been a perfect gentleman," she said, smiling.

"Because I'll wait until you're ready. I'm not going anywhere. I never want to make you think you have to do this."

The smile faded from Joan's lips as a horrifying thought bloomed in her mind. "Adam, do you not want to? With me?"

"It's not that."

"Then what is it? Because I'm starting to feel very insecure."

He cupped her face in his hands and leaned forward until his forehead rested on hers. He scrunched his face in concentration, then sighed and sat up. "I do want you, Jane. But this is kinda sudden."

"I know."

"When we do finally have sex, I want to make sure you're ready, _we're_ ready. I don't want you to regret it."

"But it would be with you," she blurted out. She squeezed her eyes shut only to look up at him through her lashes seconds later. The pleased grin on his face brought a smile to her own. "I'd never regret being with you, Adam."

Taking her hands in his, he brushed a quick kiss across her knuckles. "You say that now. But what if you get pregnant or something?"

"That's what protection is for."

"And if it doesn't work? Then what?"

Joan peered at him curiously. He seemed so reluctant to consider the topic. If it wasn't about him not wanting her, then why was he arguing against this? "Adam, are—are you ready?"

He shrugged. "I don't know."

"Oh." Her jaw hung open as shock spread through her. It had never occurred to her that Adam might have reservations. She'd just always assumed that he was sitting on ready, waiting for her to be ready, too.

Grinning at her expression, Adam gently placed a finger under her chin and closed her mouth. "It's not as simple as 'I'm a guy therefore I must be prepared to have sex,' Jane."

"I see."

"No. You don't," he said kindly. "But that's okay." He picked up the remote and turned the TV on as he scooted into the far corner of the sofa.

A part of Joan expected him to keep talking, thinking that maybe he'd turned the TV on for background noise. When a full minute passed and he hadn't said a word, she realized that he'd ended their conversation. Reaching over, she plucked the remote out of his lap and turned the TV off.

"Hey!"

"What was that?"

He dropped his head on the back of the sofa. "I really don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Oh. So because you don't want to talk about it, the conversation is over?"

"Jane," he sighed.

"Adam," she countered. "Look, you said I don't understand, so explain it to me."

"There's nothing to explain. I'm not sure I'm ready."

"But you just said that you want me."

"I do."

Joan gaped at him, still not understanding. "But . . ."

"Wanting you doesn't make me ready," he snapped.

For the second time in five minutes, Adam had surprised her into gape-mouthed silence. He never raised his voice to her. He never snapped at her. He rarely showed displays of temper at all. What had she done?

Shocked by her behavior, Joan got up and went to the kitchen.

"Jane," she heard him call. She ignored him. "Jane?"

She got a cup out of the cabinet and filled it with ice, still too dazed to comprehend what she'd just done. She'd just turned the faucet on when Adam's arms wrapped around her.

"Jane?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"For what?"

Setting her glass on the counter, Joan slowly turned to face him. "I can't believe I did that to you. I tried to force you to do something . . . you'd never . . . I'm so sorry."

"It's okay."

"No, it isn't."

"Yes, it is. You were just trying to figure out why I feel the way I do. There's nothing wrong with that."

Joan wasn't so sure her motives had been so pure. She felt such a deep sense of disappointment; she was certain she'd been hoping to change his mind. "You said you weren't ready. That should have been enough." She turned back to the sink, hoping he'd go back to the living room so she could berate herself in private.

He didn't leave but he didn't say anything either. Once she'd filled her glass, she considered facing him but her shame at her behavior wouldn't let her. Why wouldn't he just leave?

"I'm scared," he finally said.

"Scared of what?"

"Disappointing you." Joan turned toward him, disbelief written across her features. "Hurting you. It's all just a little intimidating." He chuckled self-consciously. "Our first time in every sense."

Slipping her arms around his waist, she peered up into his face until he met her gaze. "You could never disappoint me, Adam."

"Uh-huh. Sure."

"It may not be fireworks and champagne, but it will be whatever it's destined to be."

"And what if it's destined to be disappointing?"

She shook her head at him. "It's not. It's destined to be unforgettable."

"I don't doubt that."

Joan smiled. "And beautiful. I know it will be."

He stared at her, awed by her easy faith. "How can you know that?"

"Because the way you touch me is beautiful. And the way you look at me like I'm some heavenly, exquisite creature God put on Earth just for you."

"You are," he stated, blushing but not averting his gaze.

"How could it be anything but beautiful?" She laid her head on his shoulder and hugged him.

"What about hurting you?"

Joan shrugged. "I expect a little pain, Adam. I mean, given the nature of it, I'm sure it'll hurt some in the beginning. Don't worry about it."

Adam dropped his chin on her shoulder and held her close. She knew that he was worrying about it anyway. Rubbing his back, she closed her eyes and hoped that this blew over. She didn't want to spoil their break.

"Let's go out tomorrow."

"Hmm?" Joan pulled back and looked up her boyfriend. "You want to go out?"

"Yeah. Let's go have dinner, maybe see a movie or a show or go bowling. Something like that."

"You mean like a date." She grinned. "We haven't gone on a date in a long time."

"I know. So tomorrow we'll go out and, when we get back, maybe we'll test that theory of yours."

"What theory?" she asked, frowning.

He smiled. "That our first time together will be beautiful and unforgettable."

"You don't have to do this, Adam."

"I know."

"It's not like I'm some raging sex addict or something."

"I know that, too," he said, trying not to laugh and failing.

"I can wait. It's probably for the best. I mean, I'm probably not as ready as I think I am. If we keep waiting . . ."

"It'll just get more intimidating. I'll be even more nervous. And it really would end up being disastrous. I'm not saying tomorrow night at nine forty-five sharp, we're going to take the plunge. I'm just saying that, if things look like they're headed in that direction, we won't hold back."

Joan stared at him with uncertain eyes. "Are you sure?"

"We can't go back to waiting, Jane. It's out there now."

"I was afraid of that."

Adam brushed a soft kiss across her mouth. "There's no rush, Jane. We'll see how it feels. When it's right, we'll know."

"Promise?"

"I promise," he said with a smile.

The tension in Joan's shoulders began to ease and she returned his smile. "So we're okay?"

"Mm-hmm."

"What do we do now?"

He opened his mouth then closed it in thought. "I don't know," he said finally. "But I'm sure we'll figure something out."


	2. The Date

A/N: So, finally chapter two. Chapter three is almost done. Chapter four shouldn't be too hard to write, but you never know. Then I'll be free. Free to focus on the two big fics I've started. Hope you all like this chapter. I think I stayed in character with Adam but then I could be wrong. Anyway, enjoy and review. Alexandri.

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"Oh. My." Joan gaped at the stage as she leaned toward Adam. "Did you know about this?"

He shook his head. One of the actors kept flinging himself across the stage spouting out his lines like an epileptic with Tourette's. "Mike said it was innovative and powerful. I believed him," he whispered back.

"Let's not make that mistake again."

The actors formed a human pyramid and Adam had a dreadful yet amusing image of them breaking out into "Hey Mickey." When they began to bop their heads from side to side, each row bopping in alternate directions, Adam choked back a snort of laughter.

Joan, whose mouth was already hanging open as she stared at them with wide eyes, gasped in horror as they began singing a cheery rendition of "Dust in the Wind" as the lead performer lay on the stage convulsing and shouting at the ceiling. "I'm embarrassed for them," she muttered in a pained voice.

"Shhh!"

Adam and Joan turned to find a severe-looking woman glaring at them.

"_Some_ of us would like to enjoy the performance," she huffed fiercely.

In unison, Joan and Adam gathered their belongings and tiptoed out of the theater. Once they were outside, they burst into laughter. "'Some of us would like to enjoy the performance?'" Joan gasped incredulously. "Was she watching the same thing we were?"

"I know," Adam agreed. "What was that?"

"Forty-five minutes of our lives that we'll never get back."

"Unchallenged." He slipped his arm around Joan's waist. "Then again, maybe we're just not performance art people."

"I don't know," Joan said as they started across the parking lot. "The first two pieces were really good, but this one. What was that supposed to be about?"

"I can only assume it was about a dying man's attempt to rid his soul of sin and corruption before it's too late." Joan gasped and he found her gaping at him. "What?"

"You're not supposed to give intelligent, coherent answers when a person's ranting," she explained. "Have I taught you nothing?"

"Okay, Jane," he said with a laugh.

Joan playfully punched his side as they reached the car. "Are you placating me?"

"Pretty much."

"What am I going to do with you?"

Adam positioned her in front of him, penning her against the truck with his weight. "Anything you'd like to do with me."

Raising an eyebrow, Joan said, "Those are mighty big words. Are you sure you can live up to them?"

Grinning, Adam leaned into Joan, his eyes sparkling mischievously. When his mouth hovered inches away from hers, he said, "You'll just have to find out the hard way, won't you?"

Grinning herself, Joan took his face in her mittened hands. "Come here, you," she commanded as she closed the distance between their mouths.

They kissed for several minutes, oblivious to the fact that they were in the middle of a Georgetown University parking lot on a cold March evening. All that mattered was that the awkwardness from the night before was gone. Joan reveled in Adam's lighthearted sexiness and Adam just reveled in Joan.

He ended the kiss and gazed at her. She leaned against his truck with a slight smile on her face. "Oh, my," she breathed, much to his amusement.

"We should probably get going."

"Where _are_ we going?" she asked as he opened the door for her.

Adam shrugged. He hadn't planned past dinner and the show they'd just walked out on. "Is there anything you'd like to do?"

"Not really, but it seems like we should do something else, doesn't it? I mean it's only a quarter past nine."

Nodding, Adam closed her door and got in on the driver's side. It did seem like they should do more on their big date. He took her hand in his and kissed it. "Well, there are nightclubs and bars, pool halls, the movies, comedy clubs. I'm sure there's a miniature golf course around here somewhere."

"Or we could get some coffee."

"Coffee?"

"Yeah. Let's find a nice, little coffeehouse somewhere and just hang out."

"I suppose this coffeehouse will have an impressive assortment of cakes, tarts, and cookies?" Adam asked knowingly.

Joan smiled. "It doesn't have to, but it would be nice if it did."

"Coffeehouse it is," he said, laughing. He pulled out of the parking lot and began looking for a café.

Despite the awful performance they'd seen, Adam was pleased with the way the evening had turned out. As he and Joan had driven into D.C., uncertainty had permeated the ride. Neither knew what to say or do or expect after their conversation the night before. Now, the thoughts Adam usually held at bay swarmed him. Glimpses of her legs, the scent of her perfume, the curve of her lips as she sang along with the radio all invaded his senses as he drove. Excitement bubbled just under his skin and a part of him wanted to find some secluded area to park so they could make out. However, a larger part of him simply wanted to spend time with her, watch her. Joan had dazzling moments of incomparable grace.

"There," she said suddenly, pointing. He didn't see where she pointed but parked anyway. They got out and she led him to a classy little café that he hadn't noticed. Inside, they shed their coats and followed their waitress to a table. Adam watched Joan glide through the crowd. Her hips swayed beneath her skirt as she danced around the chairs and tables. Her red, mock-wrap sweater emphasized curves that seemed to undulate even when she was still. He smiled at the thought. Joan was almost never still.

"What are you smiling about?" she asked after the waitress left with their order.

"Nothing."

"Mm-hmm." She clearly didn't believe him. Uncharacteristically, she didn't press him to tell her. Instead, she took his hand and began to stroke it.

Suddenly, his world centered on her caresses. Joan's ability to wholly capture his attention amazed him. It was always so effortless—a laugh here, a casual gesture there, a smile, a touch, the smell of her skin. Even after she'd destroyed his sculpture, she'd managed to captivate him and make him forget that anything other than them existed.

After they'd become a couple and she said she wanted to wait, he'd striven to curb his natural awareness of her. He hadn't succeeded, but he'd been able to overlook her innate sensuality. Mostly. Actually, he'd compartmentalized his baser emotions for Joan the same way he'd categorized his feelings about his family. When they were together, he appreciated the graceful curve of her neck. When he was alone, he remembered the silkiness of her skin. When she cuddled against him, he enjoyed their closeness. When he was alone, he savored the memory of her heat and the way her soft body pressed against his. It had been a very effective system until recently.

It had all begun to fall apart as the semester progressed. He was taking a nature and life drawing class. Though he'd known that life drawing would include doing nudes, a part of him hadn't really registered what that meant. As the life drawing section neared, Adam found himself fantasizing about sketching Joan. He'd picture her stretched out on his bed, her hair tumbling around her in luxurious waves. Or sometimes he'd become mesmerized by the mental image of her leaning against a wall staring at him with smoldering eyes, her skin glowing in the lamplight. He found himself coming up with excuses to touch her. His old habit of watching her had returned, reinstating his spacey reputation.

When she'd announced her desire to stop waiting, he'd thought his behavior had been the reason for it. But Joan hadn't noticed the change in him, hadn't discerned his preoccupation with her. Adam was infinitely grateful for that.

Of course, that didn't help him with his current dilemma. Joan sat across from him playing with his hand. At first, she'd traced her fingers over his and massaged his palm. She'd soon tired of that and moved on to kissing his fingertips one by one. Now she focused solely on his index finger, lightly rubbing it across her lower lip. She stared at him, but didn't seem to register the effect she was having. Suddenly, she bit the pad of his finger and flicked the tip of her tongue across it. Adam clenched his jaw, determined not to embarrass himself by moaning. "Jane?" he croaked as she sucked his finger into her mouth.

"Hmm?"

The vibration of her absent hum shot through his finger, up his arm, and into his chest where it burst throughout his body as pure lust. She was going to be the death of him; he just knew it. "You're sucking my finger."

Instantly, her eyes focused on him and a blush colored her cheeks. She released his finger, placed his hand on the table and put hers in her lap. "Sorry."

"I didn't exactly mind, Jane." She turned redder. "I do, however, want to know what caused that."

Joan hid her face in her hands and her blush spread down her neck. Adam found that he liked flustering his girlfriend. "It was sort of a process."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Here you are," the waitress said. Joan looked at her with boundless gratitude. "English Toffee cake and a café mocha for the lady. Peanut butter cookies and a hot chocolate for the gentleman. Sorry about the wait."

Adam assured her it was okay. After she left, he returned his attention to Joan. She was sipping her coffee and staring at the musicians setting up on the bistro's tiny stage. "I haven't forgotten."

"You could though."

He smiled and squeezed her hand. "Tell me," he said in his most soothing voice.

Joan sighed and met his eyes. "It started with your hair."

"What about it?"

"It's getting long. You really should get it cut."

"I'll take care of that. So you noticed my hair. Then what?"

"I tried to imagine you with a goatee."

He almost choked on his hot chocolate. "What?"

"And a beret."

Adam gaped at her.

"And a tight, black turtleneck."

"Why?"

Joan shrugged. "That's how they always dress Parisian artists and beatniks in the movies."

"I'm neither one of those, Jane."

"I know that. My mind was wandering. Leave me alone."

He tasted his cookie to hide his smile. "So how did imagining me as a beatnik lead you to sucking my finger?"

"Do you want to taste my cake?" she asked, holding her fork out to him. He shook his head. "Are you sure? It's really good."

"Fine." He curled his hand around hers then slowly flicked out his tongue, pressed it to the bottom of the fork and drew it into his mouth. Rubbing soft, lazy circles in her palm, Adam watched her. Having never tried to entice her, it pleased him to see her lips part as she watched him, her breath coming in fast, shallow puffs. He sat back, letting the utensil slip from his lips.

"That was totally unnecessary," she murmured as he chewed.

"Stop stalling," he countered. He really should flirt with her more.

"Well, you see, by the time I added the turtleneck, I realized that, um," she took a deep breath and muttered the rest of the sentence.

He leaned toward her. "I didn't hear you."

She met his eyes. "I said I realized that you're really hot." She turned her attention back to her dessert.

Joan complimented him all the time—told him he was smart, sweet, funny, talented, kind. Sometimes she told him he was cute or adorable. But never hot. Never anything that indicated a physical appreciation of him. "Hey Jane?"

"Yeah?" She didn't look up.

"You're hotter."

Smiling, she said, "I think it's a toss-up."

"No," he replied in mock-contemplation. "You're hotter."

Laughing, she gazed into his eyes and beckoned him to come closer. Adam moved his chair next to hers. She slipped her hand in his. "We're really going to do this, aren't we?"

"Looks like it."

Joan caressed his cheek before drawing him in for her kiss. It was warm and gentle, a loving kiss rather than a passionate one. She smiled at him before laying her head on his shoulder and nestling close. He wrapped an arm around her and savored the warmth of her body, the buttery coffee taste she'd left in his mouth, the scent of her shampoo filling his nose. Brushing a kiss on her hair as the band tuned up, he said, "Jane?"

"Hmm?"

He was beginning to love her little hums. "I'll buy a black turtleneck and beret before getting my hair cut if you want me to."

She scooted a little closer. "I'd like that."


	3. The Act

A/N: Woo-hoo. Chapter three. I'm mentally jumping around like Sylvester Stallone in _Rocky_. I did it! Wrote my first sex scene ever. Let me know what you think. Alexandri.

* * *

Joan stood at the foot of Adam's bed watching him. In the time it had taken her to go to the bathroom then get a glass of water and come back, he'd turned on his side toward the wall, pulled the covers up to his chin, and gone to sleep. She sighed. Tonight had not gone at all as she had hoped. Awkwardness, embarrassment, pleasure, eagerness, some pain—these things she'd expected. Disappointment she had not. She certainly hadn't expected Adam to be the disappointed one. As far as she was concerned, it hadn't been that bad.

When they'd gotten back to his building, they'd both been eager. They'd kissed all the way up the stairs to his apartment door. Once inside, he'd clasped her to him, claiming her mouth again. It was a careful, deliberate kiss like he was searching for answers and he could only find them in the hidden recesses of her mouth. Then she'd arched into him, her hands buried in his hair, and slid her tongue in his mouth. He'd groaned, low and deep, almost a growl. His hands clutched fistfuls of her sweater as he drew her tight against him. Gasping slightly at the feel of his body aligned so intimately with hers, she'd ground her hips into his.

Adam tore his mouth from hers and released her. He collapsed against the wall behind him while she sank onto the arm of the sofa, both of them panting for air. Finally, he said, "Jane?"

She'd looked up at him; she hadn't quite caught her breath yet.

"Are you positive?" he asked, his eyes boring into hers. "You're ready to do this?"

Joan nodded slowly.

"I need to hear you say the words," he said softly.

Eyes never wavering from his, she cleared her throat and said, "I'm positive I'm ready to do this. I want this. I want you."

For a long moment, Adam didn't move or speak. Finally, he held his hand out to her. Joan stood, took his hand and followed him upstairs to his room.

"Do you want me to turn on the light?" he asked.

"I don't know. Do you want the light on?"

Shrugging, Adam glanced around the room before crossing to the window and opening the blinds. Cool, bluish moonlight mingled with the warm, yellow streetlight as it filtered into the room. "Okay?"

"Yes."

He nodded and sat on the side of the bed. He tugged off his shoes and socks.

"Um, Adam?"

Smiling sheepishly, he met her questioning gaze. "I hate these shoes. I've been wanting to take them off all night."

Joan laughed. "I know what you mean," she said, gesturing at her shoes.

"Come here," he ordered softly.

She did as he asked, coming to a stop in front of him. Adam leisurely removed her shoes, his fingers caressing her ankles. He carefully set them aside then looked up at her. His hands slid up her legs, drawing her closer before settling on her hips. Joan marveled that he could make her body tingle so sharply with such innocent touches. As she leaned down to kiss him, she wondered what would happen when they got to the more intimate stuff.

Joan sank onto his lap as the kiss deepened. She was so caught up in it and the feel of his hand gliding over her stomach that she didn't notice he'd plucked the combs out of her hair until it cascaded around them. "I love your hair," he murmured as he kissed his way up her jaw toward her ear. "Have I ever told you that?"

Nodding, Joan swallowed and sighed, "Last year after I cut it."

With a vague hum, Adam traced her ear with his tongue. She dug her fingers in his back as his hand cupped her breast. He kneaded it as his mouth trailed down the length of her neck. She cried out when he nipped her collarbone. "Did I hurt you?" he asked anxiously.

"No," she said against his neck. She tugged his shirt out of his pants and pulled it over his head. Carelessly tossing it behind her, Joan ran her hands over Adam's chest, delighting in the way his muscles flexed beneath her touch.

"Jane?" She raised her gaze to his. "Are you sure I didn't hurt you?"

She nodded. "It felt good. See?" she asked as she leaned forward and nipped his collarbone. His groan made her smile and she licked the spot she'd nibbled. She had made her way to the pulse throbbing at the base of his neck when she felt his hand slip under her top. "Wait."

"What?"

Grinning at his dismayed yelp, Joan stood and said, "I have on stockings."

"Okay," he said, clearly not getting the significance of this statement.

Joan brushed a reassuring kiss across his lips. "I need to take off my stockings."

"I can take them off for you, Jane."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "It'll just be awkward. It's best if I do it."

"All right."

"Close your eyes."

Adam gaped at her. "What?"

"There's really no sexy way to do this so it kinda helps if you don't watch." When he just stared at her like she'd lost her mind, she said, "Please?"

"Okay, Jane." Chuckling, Adam covered his eyes and shook his head. He plainly couldn't believe the current turn of events.

Cursing herself for wearing them in the first place, Joan quickly stripped off the offending garment and tossed them aside. Then she ran her hand through his hair. "Thank you," she said when he looked at her.

He grasped her hips and pulled her to him. Once she sat astride his lap, he said, "Anything for you."

Joan grinned and cupped his jaw in her hands. "You think I'm crazy, don't you?"

"Never."

"Yes, you do," she laughed. "But that's okay. It's true."

"It is?"

"Mm-hmm. I'm crazy about you."

Groaning her name, Adam claimed her mouth and fell back on the bed. Joan closed her eyes and followed his lead, relishing his hunger. Then his hands were on her, stroking her skin, pushing up her sweater. He pulled it off and caressed her stomach and sides. His hands climbed her back, burrowed under her tousled curls, fondled her nape. A whimper escaped her as he idly tasted the curve of her neck while he shoved her bra straps off her shoulders.

So lost was she in the desire coursing through her veins, Joan didn't even notice that Adam had lain her on the bed until he pulled away from her, taking her bra with him. When had he unclasped her bra? She watched him through half-closed eyes. He simply knelt between her thighs and drank in the sight of her. As the need to be touched overwhelmed her, she wrapped her legs around him and urged him closer. Adam came willingly, his eyes growing hotter the nearer he got. Finally, he lay atop of her, his mouth hovering inches above her breasts. Cupping them, he slid his fingers over the soft mounds, learning their shape, texture and weight all the while staring in her eyes. Impatiently, Joan arched into his touch, silently requesting more.

"Soon," he whispered as he kissed each one in turn.

"Now," she demanded, her hands gripping his hair as she tried to pull him closer.

With a sly, almost arrogant smile, he said, "Yes, Jane." He took a nipple into his mouth and sucked it hard. She bucked beneath him. She'd wanted to say something but she couldn't think past the rasp of his tongue over the sensitive point or the way he gently twisted it with his teeth. Amazed that such a concentrated action could electrify her entire body, Joan merely held on as Adam tended to each breast in turn while he stroked her stomach, thighs, and back. He seemed to be touching her everywhere at once and she wondered how anything could possibly feel better than what he was doing.

Adam raised his head eventually and peeled her arms and legs from around him.

"Don't stop," she begged.

"Shh," he soothed. "I'm not stopping." He pulled her skirt and panties down her legs and dropped them on the floor. Then he looked at her. "You are so beautiful."

"You always say that," she whispered.

"I never meant it more than I do right now." His hands skimmed up her thighs with such reverence and hot-blooded eagerness that it fired her already surging blood. Gently, he parted them and pressed his lips to the inside of her knee. She sucked in her breath and slowly released it. Adam kissed, licked and nibbled his way up her thigh, mirroring his movements on her other leg with his hand. Squirming a little, she wondered if he was going to do what she thought he was going to do. Somehow she knew that if he tasted her there, she wouldn't last long enough for him to make love to her. She moaned his name.

"I'm right here, Jane. I promise it'll be good," he said as he kissed the springy curls covering her entrance.

"Oh, God. Please stop."

His head jerked up. "Stop?"

Joan tugged him toward her. He was too stunned to resist. She took his mouth with a hungry kiss. For a few blissful moments, he kissed her back as intent on ravishing her as she was on ravishing him. Then he ended the kiss and searched her face. "I don't understand, Jane."

"I want you." When he still seemed confused, she clarified, "Inside of me. I want you inside of me."

"Now?"

"Now."

Adam pulled back and sat on the side of the bed. "Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure," she answered as she sat up, too.

"Okay," he stammered. He took a deep breath before undoing the fly and shimmying out on his pants and boxers.

She offered him a condom. As he reached for it, she tightened her hold on it. "I could do it for you," she said haltingly.

Adam shook his head and took the condom. "I think it'd be best if I did it," he said softly, blushing.

Joan nodded and covered her eyes like he had. She sensed that he didn't want her to witness this. He kissed her fingers and she found him smiling at her. "Thank you."

She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Anything for you."

His smile widened as he captured her lips and pressed her back into the pillows. Joan clung to him as his tongue delved into her mouth. She was only vaguely aware of him twining her legs around his waist, but tore her mouth from his and gasped when she felt him ease into her.

"Am I hurting you?"

"No," she breathed. As he slid into her inch by tantalizing inch, Joan's fingers gripped his shoulders.

"Are you sure this doesn't hurt?" he asked again, concern evident in his voice.

She managed to nod. The sensation of him filling her, stretching her was so intense, it dominated her. She'd never known anything could feel as good as he felt inside of her.

Finally, he was fully embedded in her. He brushed the hair off of her face. "Jane?"

Her eyes fluttered open. "Don't stop."

"You're sure?"

Joan chuckled. If she wasn't, it was too late now. "I'm sure." She was most definitely sure.

Adam began to move. He took gentle, languid strokes as if she'd lied about it hurting and he wanted to minimize the pain. It wasn't until her shuddering, clearly pleasured moan that he relaxed and began to make love to her like she wasn't fragile.

Joan felt like she was adrift on an endless wave of sensation. His breath, hot and urgent on her neck, his back muscles rippling beneath her hands, the increasingly relentless advance and retreat of his erection, and the dark, hungry look in his eyes combined to make her feel like she was drowning. The pressure became sharper, making her want all of him. She met him thrust for thrust, straining toward some presently unknown something.

"Jane?" She opened her eyes to find him staring at her with desperation in his. He closed them and buried his face in her neck even as he struggled against what she suspected was his impending orgasm. Wrapping herself firmly around him, Joan tried to give the extra bit of pleasure he needed. His grip on her shoulders tightened. "No," he whispered followed almost immediately by "Oh, God." He tensed then shook as his climax ripped through him.

Settling above her, Adam managed to cover her while bearing most of his weight on his arms. Joan stroked his back while he tried to regain his composure. He couldn't seem to catch his breath and the hot puffs of air sent pleasure pulsing through her. She felt as breathless as Adam yet oddly peaceful. Lying there, his weight pressing her deeper into the mattress, Joan realized that she was perfectly content to stay like this, enveloped by him.

She didn't know how long they'd lain there before he finally stirred. The sorrow on his face stunned and hurt her. He tried to smile but couldn't quite manage it. He touched his lips to hers and she clung to him. She kissed him earnestly, almost frantically, sucking at him as if she could extract his disappointment through his mouth. When she finally released him, she searched his face for some sign that he felt what she felt. Instead he swept his fingers over her cheek. "I'm sorry, Jane." Then he rolled off of her and turned his face to the wall.

Eyes closed, Joan willed her tears back. She felt deflated. How could he not have felt it? She knew he'd come. She'd seen it, held him while it consumed him. Wasn't that supposed to mean he enjoyed it? It was. Of that she was certain. But he hadn't. Instead, he'd felt let down.

Joan raised her hand to touch him but thought better of it. What would she say when he looked at her? Would she ask what she'd done wrong? She couldn't do that. Not yet. The hurt was too fresh. Tonight was supposed to have been beautiful, magical even. And it had been. But not for Adam. The tears came then and she couldn't lie there anymore. She got out of bed, put on his robe, and cried in the bathroom.

Which brought her to the foot of the bed watching the boy she loved sleep. She had to talk to him. She'd never get to sleep if she didn't. Sucking up her trepidation, Joan got a t-shirt out of his drawer, slipped it on, and climbed on the bed. Making herself touch him, she shook his shoulder. "Adam? Adam, wake up."

Passing a hand over his face, he squinted at her. "Jane?" He caressed her cheek then sat up. "What's wrong? You're crying. Are you okay?"

Head bowed, Joan shrugged.

"You're scaring me, Jane. Tell me what's wrong."

Taking a deep breath, Joan looked up into his worried face. "I just want to apologize."

"For what?"

"For pressuring you. I know you weren't entirely comfortable with . . ."

"You didn't pressure me."

"Us doing this," she continued as if he hadn't said anything. "You're always doing things just to make me happy, but we shouldn't have and . . ." She broke off and stared at her hands.

"Jane?" he said tentatively.

She sniffed. "I'm sorry you didn't like having sex with me." Saying the words aloud made it real and she covered her mouth with her hand as her shoulders shook with the sobs she was trying to hold back.

"Oh, Jane," Adam murmured as he gathered her in his arms.

"I'm sorry," she repeated as she buried her face in his neck and cried.

He hugged her to him and stroked her back. "You have nothing to be sorry for." When she shook her head, he squeezed her. "Look at me, Jane."

Reluctantly, Joan raised her eyes to his. "You have nothing to be sorry for," he repeated slowly, making sure to enunciate each word.

"I saw your face, Adam," she whispered. "You were so disappointed. You apologized for it."

Sweeping his thumb tenderly over her cheek, he said, "It's not what you think."

"What else could it possibly be?"

"I was disappointed in myself," he admitted.

"Why?"

"I couldn't hold out long enough." Joan just stared at him, mystified. Adam gave her a rueful smile. "I came and you didn't. That's why I apologized. I didn't please you."

Joan didn't know what to say. How could he think that? He'd been so gentle and considerate and sexy. She'd felt such amazing things when he was inside her; she couldn't begin to describe them. Stroking her hands over his abashed face, she tried to convey all the wonder and beauty and pleasure she'd felt with a kiss. "You did please me, Adam," she said when the kiss ended. "You pleased me so much."

"But not enough. I wanted it to be perfect for you."

"It was perfect." When he shook his head, she forced him to meet her eyes. "It was," she insisted. "I'm so lucky."

He chuckled derisively. "Right."

"My first time was with the man I love who just so happens to love me back . . ."

"Unchallenged."

Joan grinned. "It was sweet and sensual and incredible. And it didn't hurt at all. A lot of the girls in my sexuality class said that their first times were awful. Some of them even said that it was a long time before they got what the big deal was."

"You talked about this in class," he asked, surprised.

"It came up in study group," she said dismissively. "My point is that when you first entered me, it was like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle coming together. It was like we were made to fit as one."

Adam sighed and rested his forehead on hers. "You really aren't disappointed," he said, awe in his voice.

"Like I told you yesterday, you could never disappoint me." She snuggled deeper into his arms. "So I really didn't suck?"

Adam tipped her chin back and stared into Joan's eyes. "You so didn't suck. In fact, it was the very opposite of sucking."

For a moment, Joan smiled up at him. Then she frowned. "The opposite of sucking is blowing which pretty much means the same thing as sucking."

"I'm very uncomfortable with the direction of this conversation, Jane."

Her jaw dropped. "Adam!"

"What? I have on no clothes."

"Oh, God," she moaned, burying her face in his chest.

Laughing, Adam said, "Let's just say that making love to you tonight is definitely one of my top three all-time favorite Jane moments."

"You have favorite Jane moments?"

He grinned and nodded. "Now let's get some sleep. We've had a long night."

"Okay."

They lay in bed, Adam arranging the covers over them. He settled her in front of him and spooned behind her. She pulled his arm tight around her and twined their fingers together. He nuzzled her neck. Joan decided she really liked this position, but she was far too alert to sleep. "Adam?"

"Yes, Jane?"

"Can we try it again?"

"Not tonight."

"Why not?"

Adam sighed. "I'm no expert, but I think you're going to be sore tomorrow. If we do it again, it'll just make it worse, won't it?"

"I guess."

He kissed her temple. "Good night, Jane."

"'Night, Adam."

"You're not going to sleep, are you?"

"Not sleepy."

"I don't want to hurt you, Jane."

She smiled. "I got that."

"You're sure about this?"

"Yeah," she said, nodding. "I kinda want to have my way with you."

Adam groaned. "You really shouldn't say things like that."

"Even if they're true?"

"Even if they're true."

Joan turned in his arms. She ran a hand down his chest. Stopping at his navel, she traced it with her forefinger before dipping it inside. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. "You got to lick, kiss, and touch me all over tonight. I didn't."

"I still think we should wait until tomorrow," he panted. Her hand continued its journey south.

"But you know what they say."

"Who? About what? Huh?"

She grinned and kissed his chin. "They say 'never put off until tomorrow what you can do today.' I think that applies to our situation."

Her fingers brushed his erection and he jumped. "You're going to be the death of me."

"It'll be a fun way to go."

The sound he made was part laugh, part moan. "What am I going to do with you?"

Joan pushed him on his back and straddled his hips. "Let's find out."


	4. The Morning After

A/N: Here we go. Chapter four. The End. I was going to make it longer but my other stories are clambering for attention. What can you do? I hope you all enjoyed this story. It was fun to write. Thanks for all the lovely reviews. Alexandri

* * *

Adam had just turned off the stove when Joan's arms snaked around his waist.

"Gotcha," she whispered in his ear.

"Good morning."

Joan's hands slid up his chest as she rose on tiptoe and nibbled his earlobe. "Good morning." Her warm, sultry voice made him shiver with desire as she pressed against his back. "Whatcha doing?"

Clearing his throat, he said, "Making breakfast."

Her tongue dipped in his ear and Adam's concentration wavered. "Do you always cook without a shirt on?"

"No," he whispered.

Sliding her fingers down the trail of hair on his stomach, she stopped just above his waistband and traced his navel with her thumb. "Your sweats are riding awfully low on your hips," she observed as she kissed her way down his neck and her fingers slipped inside his waistband. Her tongue flitted over his hammering pulse as her fingertips fluttered across his abdomen.

Adam's head fell back, his muscles twitched, and he wondered how he was still standing. "Why are you telling me this, Jane?" he panted.

"I just thought you should know you're far more appetizing than breakfast."

Taking her hand out of his pants, Adam turned and pinned her arms behind her. "You're being a very naughty girl," he teased.

The smile she gave him was downright wicked. "I'm your naughty girl, though."

"That you are," he agreed and pulled her into his arms. "I didn't expect you to get up so soon. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, very well." Joan wrapped her arms around his neck. "So you gonna kiss me or what?"

He cocked an amused eyebrow at her. "You're turning out to be a very impatient and demanding lover."

"Answer the question."

Suppressing a giddy chuckle, Adam gave her a quick, chaste kiss.

"You're going to have to do better than that."

Laughing in earnest now, he rested his forehead against hers and slid his thumbs up and down her spine. When she shivered, he asked, "You like that?"

Joan glared at him, a slight smile on her lips. He knew very well that she liked it.

Sensing that she was close to retaliating, Adam decided to give her what she wanted. He kissed the corners of her mouth then scattered tiny kisses along the rim of her lower lip. Joan leaned in, trying to plant her mouth soundly on his. "Patience," he murmured as he pulled back. She grumbled her dissent and pressed into him again.

Adam thrust his hands into her hair, cupping the back of her head and pulling her tight against him. Joan's eyes flew open, startled by the abrupt movement. Grinning, he said, "Patience, Jane." Then he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth.

Determined not to be rushed, he continued his deliberate campaign. By the time he'd fully claimed her mouth, Joan had risen on her toes and clutched his neck. She strained against him like she was trying to climb his body. Adam seized her bottom and drew her closer. Moaning, Joan grabbed his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his waist.

It wasn't his hand massaging her breast or the sexy little whimpers she made in the back of her throat or the way she kept brushing his arousal that made Adam realize just how close he was to making love to Joan on the kitchen floor. It was the sound of a stomach rumbling. Reluctantly, he released her breast, ended the kiss and set her on the floor before holding her at arm's length and fighting for his lost composure. She didn't protest and for that he was grateful. It took everything he had not to pull her back into his arms and ravish her again.

Eventually, she let out a sigh and focused her gaze on him. "Hello."

"Hey. Get out."

She blinked at him. "What?"

He turned her around and pointed to the dining room. "Get out," he repeated. "Go sit. You're distracting me.

"Am I a good distraction?" she asked, gazing at him over her shoulder.

"Go," he commanded laughingly and swatted her behind to get her moving.

"Did you just spank me?" she asked, incredulous.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he nodded. "Go on. I have to finish breakfast."

"Why is this so important to you?" she asked.

Adam shrugged. "Isn't it enough that it is?"

She made it as far as the doorway before turning to face him. The t-shirt she'd worn to bed the night before now hung almost to her knees. Sunlight streamed through the patio door bathing her in a brilliant halo as she reclined against the frame. Once again, he was reminded of how beautiful Joan was. He still found it incredible that he was lucky enough to have such a special woman love him the way she did. "How can I help?"

"By sitting at the table."

Joan giggled. "Okay. You win."

Once she was safely seated in the dining room, Adam busied him with the eggs, toast and coffee. The juice and strawberries were already prepared and waiting in the refrigerator. He'd just finished the bacon when she'd snuck up on him.

"Did I ever tell you I'm not much of a breakfast person?" she asked as he beat the eggs.

He smiled and ignored her. He already knew that.

"Really, it's true. Ask my mom. She was always trying to get me to eat something in the morning."

Still not responding, Adam put four pieces of buttered bread in the oven and checked the oil's heat for the eggs.

"Why are you putting the bread in the oven?" she asked. "You have a toaster."

"Oven toast is better."

"Oh. You're sure you don't want any help?"

Adam laughed. The resonant, masculine satisfaction in it surprised him. He'd never laughed like that before and he knew instinctively that it was a direct result of the change in his and Joan's relationship. Something about the new freedom they had with each other pleased him, made him giddy, and he laughed again just because it felt so good to feel so close to her. "Thanks for offering, but I have everything under control," he finally answered as he began to scramble cheese into the eggs in the skillet.

Joan fell silent. Oddly enough, her silence made Adam hyperaware of her. He detected every rustle of movement, every deep breath, every glance without seeing it. He was certain she was checking out his butt when he bent to take the toast out of the oven. Unnerved by her quiet attention, he hurriedly assembled breakfast on a tray and turned toward the dining room.

Sure enough, she sat there, staring at him with lustful eyes. His heartbeat sped up and his fingers tightened on the tray's handles. The things she did to him with even trying. Carefully, he set the tray down and pulled her out of the chair. "Were you checking me out just now?"

"Mm-hmm."

With an amused shake of his head, he sat in her seat and settled her in his lap. "Hungry?"

"Not for food."

"Be good, Jane," he admonished as he offered her a forkful of eggs.

"Aren't I always?" She popped a strawberry into his mouth before he could answer.

Breakfast continued in the same playful manner. They fed each other, kissing between bites. Joan kept whispering suggestive ideas in his ear until he whispered something particularly dirty in hers. She'd gawked at him for the next five minutes but she stopped whispering in his ear.

When they finally finished (Joan had eaten quite a bit despite her general dislike for breakfast), she laid her head on his shoulder. "That was really good."

"Glad you liked it."

She kissed the underside of his jaw and trailed her finger along his collarbone. He moaned her name when she pinched his nipple and rolled it.

"What are you doing, Jane?" he asked even though he knew perfectly well what she was doing.

"What are _you_ doing?" she countered with a sigh. She rolled her hips forward and Adam realized his hand had crept up her thigh and was a hair's breadth from the edge of her panties.

With a groan, he pushed back from the table and stood with her in his arms. As he crossed the living room, she said, "Where are we going?"

"The bedroom."

Joan giggled. "I've been fantasizing about this since the semester began."

"Yeah?" he asked as he started up the steps.

"Uh-huh." She snuggled deeper in his arms. "Adam?"

"Yes."

"Are we going to do that thing you mentioned at breakfast?"

Adam missed a step and almost pitched them both to the floor. "Do you want to?" he spluttered.

Joan worried her lip with her teeth and blushed. "It _does_ sound awfully interesting." When he didn't respond or continue up the stairs, she smiled. "Let's do it."

He closed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief. "You are going to be the death of me."

She shrugged and nuzzled the spot below his ear. "If what you suggested feels half as good as it sounds, you're going to be the death of me, too."


End file.
